Page 28 of Her Heart's Rightful Earl
The room smelled worse than when he had left it. Alexander looked under the bed to check no small rodent had died there. There was no rat or mouse, but an abundance of damp wood and stained floorboards, so he decided it was best not to look there again.
The thin straw-filled mattress sagged upon the bed ropes, which had clearly not been tightened in some time. He sat down upon it, uncomfortably, and thought through all the information Captain Morrison had bestowed upon them.
It seemed that his father’s killer was still active and sensitive to any potential intervention. That made anybody who was looking into the truth extremely vulnerable.
The people at risk, therefore, Alexander considered, were himself, Thomas, Captain Morrison, andArabella!For he had requested her help in clearing his name. She had yet to be delegated any particular task, but she had been eager to get involved—and as she now knew that Alexander was alive—she was already entangled in this mess he would have much preferred to keep her free from.
Alexander pulled the small, battered book of poetry from his pocket and smoothed his hand over the book cover. This was his talisman, associated with Arabella. During his years in exile, it was the closest thing he had to remember her, and so he held it as dear to him as any amulet or lock of hair.
Sitting there in the room that felt more like a prison than a refuge, he bargained with the universe that Arabella should not be harmed. He did not feel he could continue to exist if anything happened to her. He hated that he had invited peril into the lives of those he cared about, simply by his mere presence.
He permitted his heart a small flurry of happiness at the fact that Arabella accepted her part in uncovering the perpetrator, when he knew she could just as easily have reported him to the authorities. He was overjoyed that she had jumped on board to help with his plight.
However, he reminded himself sombrely, she was only doing so to satisfy her keen sense of justice. Her assistance had noreflection on her affections for him, and he must remain mindful of this fact. Arabella may be helping, but her willingness to be a good person was not suggestive of her continued fondness for him. He must accept that sad reality.
As Alexander ruminated on these thoughts, he heard a floorboard creak as soft footsteps approached his door in the corridor outside. The hostel was loud and overpopulated at night, but during the day, it was strangely quiet, as the occupants were mostly out trying to earn money to pay for their room again that night. The movement piqued his interest as it sounded as though the visitor was moving intentionally quietly, which was at odds with the raucous way in which his new neighbours generally conducted themselves.
Alexander held completely still, awaiting the knock which he felt was inevitable—and which he would ignore, holding his breath until the caller disappeared.
No knock came, however. Alexander stared at the door, and as he did so, something slipped underneath on the floorboards. It looked like a note.
But who would leave a note without first knocking to ascertain I am not present?Alexander wondered. The answer arrived in his mind immediately.Somebody who does not wish to be seen.
Alexander quietly crossed the room and swept the item from the floor, discovering it to be a playing card. Alexander flipped it over to see the black and white print of the ace of spades.
Alexander barely repressed a sharp intake of breath, recognizing the symbolic meaning of this card to propose death.
Without thinking, he unlocked the door and peered out, feeling ready to confront whoever had delivered the card. He knew perhaps it was hazardous, and certainly it was impulsive, but he needed to know who his enemy was so he could protect his loved ones from them.
It seemed the visitor was faster in making their escape than they had been on their approach. Alexander whipped his head first left, then right, to no avail. He ran to the top of the dark, narrow staircase and peered down, but he was too late. His adversary had gone.
Chapter 9
The morning room was peaceful, and the light of the spring day glided in columns past the grand piano and rested upon the thick-pile rug that furnished the centre of the room. Arabella watched the dust motes as they danced in the sunlight, before blinking back her thoughts and attending once more to the embroidery in her lap.
Charlotte sat across from her on a small loveseat, engaged with heavy focus on reading her book. Adjacent to them both was Lady Wellwood, with a thin blanket hanging over her knees to warm her feet, which she consistently noted were cold.
Arabella completed a few stitches before her mind interrupted her concentration once again, and her eyes slipped upwards to watch a fluffy white cloud pass through the blue sky she could see from the window.
How shall I help Alexander?her thoughts asked her.Where could I possibly begin?
She knew that Alexander had advised that he and Thomas were initiating the first steps of investigation and that he would send word once there was a clear strategy on how they might go about proving his innocence, but Arabella felt compelled to be proactive.
Sitting in the morning room, embroidering felt unproductive and frivolous when she considered she could instead be actively researching the damning situation that had stolen Alexander away from her.
Previously, she had been content to settle with this life of peaceful domesticity, believing her love to be dead and her loyal husband had followed soon after. There seemed not to be much point in applying her efforts to anything much but to quietly accept the mundane days of widowhood.
Now, however, her lethargy was banished, and her brain had been stimulated by the alarming concept that not only was Alexander still alive, but that a world existed where a murderer was still at large among them, and the man she had loved for so many years might have the possibility of regaining his rightful place as Earl of Wellwood.
Here, Arabella had purpose and a responsibility to do the right thing. Her very being felt invigorated at the potential work she could be doing towards this cause, only she must pause until Thomas reached out with instructions.
It was no wonder, she concluded, that embroidery today felt tedious and frustrating.
Charlotte looked up from her book.
“Is everything quite satisfactory, Arabella?”
This awoke Arabella from her reverie, and she prepared a smile for her sister.
